Darasuum Aliit
by Aubreys-Master
Summary: For a Mandalorian, family is everything. For Jango Fett, it's no different.


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

Rating: This story has been brought to you by the letters PG and the number Thirteen. M is or Mature, baby.

Warnings: Mature content, slash, mpreg; later: alcohol abuse

Author's note: Guys. Please. We know what happened to Jango during Attack of the Clones. We know this, and we merrily disregard it. :) With that in mind, please enjoy the show!

Pairing: Jango Fett/Anakin Skywalker

Spoilers: None. AotC and Clone Wars: Last Stand on Jabiim if you disregard key points of cannon.

Timeline: Relative to Attack of the Clones through Relative to A New Hope.

Universe: So very AU that you need to squint to see cannon.

Summary: For a Mandalorian, family is everything. For Jango Fett, it's no different.

* * *

Darasuum Aliit  
Chapter One

* * *

As he lay on the floor of his cell, staring at the dirt ceiling, Anakin couldn't decide if he was more irritated with himself for being captured or with Dooku and the Separatists for doing the capturing. Or, perhaps he was most annoyed with Obi-Wan for debating his Padawan's way out of protecting Padmé on Naboo, and into chasing after her would-be killer. He'd chased, all right. He'd chased that almost-assassin right there, into that cell. He'd been there for the past week, awaiting his _trial._His back hurt. He was starving. He didn't want to spend another night on the dirt floor, talking to himself, but it seemed like that was exactly what he would do.

The guards changed shifts once more, and the door around him clanged open and shut. Dooku came in, to taunt him once more. By now, Anakin was too weak to even bother trying to fight the man. Tonight, he didn't even bother to sit up. Instead, he offered the Count a lazy look, raising his eyebrows.

"I already told you everything I _don't_ know," he reminded Dooku with a tired sigh. "Have you decided to feed me tonight?"

"Oh, my boy, I'm so _terribly_ sorry," Dooku said in his cordial way. "I'll be sure to ask them to at least bring you some bread." The Count adjusted his shimmersilk cape and circled around Anakin like a nekk battle dog, eyeing its prey.

"Why are you here, then?" Anakin snorted, pushing himself up into a sitting position now. "Is this my fabulous trial? Seems a bit over-hyped, to me."

Dooku shook his head. "Oh, no. You see, you are being held for treason against Geonosis, which I have nothing to do with. I am merely here to protect my…business interest." He flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder.

"I didn't commit treason against _anyone_," Anakin scowled. "I'd never even _heard_ of Geonosis, before I followed Fett here. What business interests?"

The aristocratic former Jedi gave him a condescending look. "I am not at liberty to discuss such matters with a mere Padawan," he replied, "no matter how skilled."

"Then why are you down here, bugging me?" Anakin snorted. "It was much more interesting to count the cracks in the ceiling."

"Sarcasm is the refuge of a weak mind," Dooku committed. "I am merely down here because I thought you might like to hear the truth of what has been happening."

"Oh?" Anakin raised his eyebrows again. "You're going to tell me why you've been attempting to kill Senator Amidala? Please, do share."

Dooku effectively ignored his question. "What if I were to tell you that the Senate is now under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith."

"I'd say you're full of bantha shit," Anakin snorted. "The Jedi would have noticed something that out of place, so close."

"Ah, but the dark side clouds their judgment. Don't tell me _you_ haven't sensed something amiss, these past months?"

"I have," Anakin corrected flatly. "I've spent those months tracking down an _assassin_. Something's obviously amiss, and it all points to _you_, Count."

"Because the Lord of the Sith willed it to be so," Dooku replied calmly, evenly.

"The fact that you're heading a rebel secessionist alliance, and Senator Amidala is your biggest opposition didn't have _anything_ to do with the evidence all pointing to you?" Anakin wondered dryly. "I _know_ you're harboring Fett, Dooku. I also know that he wasn't completely honest with me on Kamino, or he wouldn't be here now."

"This is _much_ bigger than the Confederacy," Dooku informed him. "Much bigger than the Republic, even. Padawan Skywalker, this is a matter of _good and evil_. Do you not wish to destroy the Sith?"

"I will," Anakin nodded firmly. "But you must understand that I'm forced to take everything you say with a grain of salt. You're not exactly in a position to appear exceptionally trustworthy."

"I understand, my boy, you have been poisoned by the lies of the Jedi and the Republic for too long."

"I am _not_," Anakin staggered to his feet and over toward Dooku, leaning against the bars of the cell exhaustedly. "Going to turn my back on everything I've known for a traitor like you. I can _feel_ the darkness on you, Count. What makes you think I'm stupid enough to fall for your lies?"

"Because you have a destiny to fulfill, and I can help you do it." Dooku moved to stand beside him, and Anakin could smell his cologne.

"My _destiny_," Anakin spit, "is to defeat dark siders like you. Turn Fett over to me. Let me at least get proof to send back to Coruscant. You can kill me for whatever treason you want, after that."

Dooku sighed theatrically, and let himself out of the cell, causing Anakin to nearly topple over as the bars in front of him moved to allow the Count's egress. "I will, of course, do what I must," he said, and was gone.

"What the _hell_ does that mean?" Anakin shouted after him, to no avail. The Count did not turn back to him. Anakin groaned and collapsed to the ground again. He hoped Fett would just cooperate. Anakin didn't think he had the energy to fight the bounty hunter again, just then. Maybe if he could just get some sleep, things would work out in his favor…

--

Jango Fett was firmly convinced that he did not have time to be humoring a doomed Jedi's last request. Especially when it meant leaving his kid in Dooku's care. But he wasn't paid to voice his opinions; he was paid to follow orders. He was paid quite well to follow orders, which was why he was currently marching down toward Skywalker's holding cell. He'd fought the Jedi, he'd arrested the Jedi, but he really had nothing against the kid. It was just good business, fair and square. He wouldn't have even minded the visit, if there had been someone to leave Boba with, besides the_good_ Count.

Despite the fact that Dooku was the one paying him so handsomely for his time, Jango did _not_ like the man. Not _at all_. There was something slimy about him, behind his high-class polish. If there was one thing Jango Fett appreciated, it was honesty, and Count Dooku was not an honest man.

"That was one thing that Skywalker had going for him. He hadn't tried to swindle Jango with sugarcoated words. He'd been perfectly to the point about why he was there. That was the other reason that Jango was humoring his ridiculous last request.

He found Skywalker ravenously gobbling down a half a loaf of bread. It was not at all the dignified face that Jango had set up for the Jedi. He'd seemed much more refined when they'd met on Kamino. Now…now he just looked like a boy who was young enough to be one of his own – assuming, of course, their half-years counted a whole – who was facing his own death and just wanted to get that last meal in. Even though it would probably be far more time before he was actually put to trial. Dooku like to make his victims squirm first.

He cleared his throat as he approached the bars. Skywalker looked up sharply, his eyes as stormy as the seas of Kamino. "Didn't think you'd come," he said around a mouth full of bread.

"I make a habit of answering the last requests of those I put on death row, so long as it suits my purposes," Jango explained calmly, finishing it off with a shrug. He let himself into the cell and crouched down by the boy, examining him critically through his helmet. He looked half-starved already. "I hope you didn't seriously think you were going to arrest me."

Skywalker pulled away from him, clutching the bread tightly, and scooted across the door floor of the cell to press his back against the wall. "I would have certainly liked to," he replied.

"But you didn't think you were going to. That's the important part, avoiding delusions of grandeur." He tilted his head curiously, noting how tightly Skywalker's dirty fingers were clutching the bread. "I don't plan to steal that, you know. Probably stale anyway."

Skywalker looked down and flushed. "Old habits," he muttered, loosening his grip with what Jango realized was intense concentration.

"Well," Jango made a point of staying a safe distance away – more for Skywalker's benefit than his own. He didn't think the boy had the strength to smudge his armor, let alone hurt him, right then. "Since you're not going to arrest me, and you've no way to contact your people, is there anything else I can do for you, or are we just wasting time by my being here?"

Skywalker looked up at him with those huge, blue eyes. He looked like he wanted to ask something of Jango, but seemed reluctant. "I…" he shook his head violently. "First mission on my own, and I end up being executed. Some Chosen One I turned out to be." It was said more to himself, but Jango knew that he was meant to hear it.

He did not, however, intend to say anything. After all, it wasn't his place to do any comforting, but…he knew he'd want to, if it were Boba looking that frightened. "Yeah, well," he grumbled, looking away awkwardly. "It could happen to anyone. You put up a decent fight, at least."

Skywalker snorted derisively. "For about five seconds," he replied. "I'm usually much better. I've never lost a sparring match." Now it sounded as though he were bragging, and Jango noticed the boy's voice grow a bit stronger. "I'm supposed to be one of the Order's greatest swordsmen." With a sigh, he added, "But I've been so _tired_."

"You sick?" Jango tried to convince himself that he didn't care – because this _wasn't_ Boba, or any of Boba's brothers. This was just some Jedi who'd gone a bit too far, to follow his mandate. It wasn't Jango's fault that the kid looked ready to cry. Jango had just done his job.

Skywalker shook his head. "I can't sleep," he admitted, and Jango could sense that he was the first one that Skywalker had told this to. "My mother…she…she's suffering, and I can't help her. I keep dreaming about her. So I don't sleep, so I don't have to dream."

"That's…rough," Jango stated awkwardly and he was struck by the most inexplicable urge to do _something_ to make this kid feel better, before he died. "Listen, you know this whole me arresting you thing…it wasn't personal, alright? Just part of the job."

"Well, neither was my trying to arrest you," Skywalker replied, trying to make his tone light but failing miserably. "Except _you_ tried to kill someone I care very deeply about. That makes it personal." He drew his knees up to his chest.

"That was just part of the job too. I'm sure the Senator's a fine lady, but I was getting paid to do what I did. I'm going to keep doing it, too, until I get it done, so I can collect the rest of my fee."

Skywalker eyed him warily, and Jango had the sudden sensation of something crawling around inside his head. "Why?" the boy asked.

"Because I'm partial to eating and to not being on Dooku and Gunray's bad sides, that's why." Wasn't that obvious? "Same reason anyone does anything, I guess. To protect their interests."

"I don't do things for that reason," Skywalker replied firmly. "Why would you take jobs that hurt beings?" He sounded so honestly confused. _Such a naïve little boy_, Jango thought.

"They're the jobs that are available," Jango shrugged. He couldn't believe he was really having this conversation. Deeming Skywalker fairly neutralized, he sat down where he'd been standing. "Bounty hunters tend to not get hired for the legal jobs, because your lot takes most of those."

"So, you hurt people," Skywalker said, taking a bite of his bread. "It doesn't seem like a very good life." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "The first time I killed someone, I thought I was going to die myself. I feel that way every time I have to use my blade against a living being."

"You get numb to it, I suppose." Jango considered that for a moment. _Did_ one ever truly go jumb to it? It was hard to be a Mandalorian and not be okay with hurting people. "If you live through this, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it, a few years down the line."

"I hope not," Skywalker affirmed. "I don't want to stop feeling things. That's why…well, that's why they're not letting me take the Trials. I'm ready, but they say I'm too _unpredictable_."

"I'll buy that," Jango snorted, but he thought it was quiet enough that Skywalker couldn't hear him through his helmet. "Seem like a loose cannon, to me." He wasn't sure if he was serious or not. The kid did seem a little off, but Jango hadn't decided it was in a dangerous way or not.

"They won't let me move on," Skywalker continued, and Jango got the impression that this was a practiced speech. "And if I _do_ survive this, they're going to use it as more ammunition against me."

"If you're so unhappy," Jango reached up and unsealed his helmet, pulling it off. It wasn't like Skywalker hadn't seen him already. Once it was off, he wondered if the air hadn't smelled better with it on. "Why do you put up with it? Why not get out while you're young enough to still make it?"

Skywalker scowled and pushed his right leg out, before pulling it back in. "I made a commitment," he said sullenly. "And if I leave now, everything will have been for nothing."

"You could go check on your mum, if you left," Jango pointed out. "Get yourself a nice enough life together. You're not a bad kid, from what I can tell. Just a little mixed up, up here." He tapped his own temple to illustrate.

"You don't know the half of it," Skywalker muttered, shaking his head. "You don't get it, though. I left my mom to become a Jedi. She let me go because she knew it would be a better life for me. If I went back to her with nothing to show for the years we've been apart…" He cut himself off.

"Whatever, kid," Jango shrugged, putting his helmet back on and standing up. Skywalker looked openly disappointed by the idea of him leaving. "I'm not trying to convince you of anything. That's your job, not mine."

"Wait," Skywalker said suddenly, before he could leave the cell. "Can…I just…" He shook his head. "Forget it. It's stupid. Go on, I'm sure you have politicians to assassinate."

"Can you _what_?" Jango folded his arms and planted his stance, waiting for Skywalker to answer.

"I've just never been alone, like this, before," Skywalker said, sounding very young and scared. "I'm going crazy, I think."

"What do you want me to _do_ about it, Skywalker?" Jango sighed. "Spit it out, I've got to go rescue my son from Dooku's clutches, soon."

"Stay?" Skywalker asked plaintively. "Just a little bit longer? Until I finish my bread, anyway?"

Jango sighed again, before he nodded and sat back down. He apparently had a soft spot for soon-to-be-dead boys. "I haven't talked to Dooku about it," he said carefully. "But you've probably got another week, before your trial, to stew."

"Wonderful," Skywalker muttered, leaning his head against the dusty wall. "Why can't they just kill me and get it over with? This is _torture_."

"That's the idea, I think," Jango snorted. "See, killing you wouldn't be so bad. They know that. They want to punish you, so they make you sit and think about your death, before they give it to you."

"Very thoughtful of them," the boy spat, shivering slightly. "They could at least turn the heat up a little."

"I could…try to get a blanket, for you." At Skywalker's odd, curious look, Jango grumbled, "_I'm_ not a bad person, kid. Just singing for my supper."

Skywalker took another ravenous bite of his bread. "I understand, I guess, doing what you have to in order to survive."

"That's all it is," Jango agreed carefully. "Survival. Got to build a life for Boba, for when I can't spoon feed it to him anymore."

Skywalker nodded solemnly. "Why'd you request an unaltered clone?" he asked curiously.

"Don't call him that!" Jango felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for his boy. "Boba isn't a clone. Not in the sense you think of them. He's my _son_, not one of your drones."

Looking taken aback, Skywalker held up his hands in deference. "Sorry," he said, sounding like me meant it. "Why did you want a son, then?"

"Because I want the galaxy to remember me, after I'm dead and buried, I guess." He realized he didn't really know. "Maybe I just wanted someone to love."

Skywalker bowed his head. "Me too," he said, so softly that Jango wasn't sure he'd even heard it.

"Jedi don't let you do that, though, do they? Don't see how they can really stop you, either."

"They'd know," Skywalker said.

"What? If you did something? Probably," Jango shrugged. "Don't see how a loose cannon like you can stand to be so repressed all the time."

Skywalker chuckled ruefully. "I can't," he admitted. "I get in trouble a lot. Been censured by the Council, a few times. My Master's about at his wit's end, with me."

"You're sure that you dying is going to be such a bad thing, if they're so sick of you there?"

The boy looked taken aback. "I…I don't think they're _sick_ of me…" He furrowed his brows. "But they probably are." He sighed, shoving the last of his bread into his mouth. "And you're right, it probably will be better for everyone, once this is all over with."

"I wasn't serious," Jango sighed. "You do have some self-esteem issues, for such an arrogant brat, though."

"How the kriff was I supposed to know you were joking?" the boy demanded, flushing.

"Can't be a very good Jedi if you can't even read people's tones. Even us normal people can do that," Jango snorted. "Maybe that's why they won't let you take your Trials, yet."

Skywalker's eyes flashed. "I'm kriffing exhausted, I'm starving, I'm cold, and I'm about to die. Excuse me if I don't really feel like _analyzing your tone of voice_ right now."

"You probably won't die," Jango shook his head. "It would take too much explaining, if they killed one your age. I'll see what I can do about getting you that blanket."

"Thanks," Skywalker muttered, folding in on himself.

"Don't pout so much," Jango commanded, exiting the cell. "I'll bring Boba with me, next time. You might have more in common with him."

The boy snorted and thrust his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. He rested his chin on the top of his knees, drawing his arms around his legs, still shivering. Jango shook his head as he left the cellblock. He couldn't believe he'd committed to coming back and seeing the kid again. Maybe it as just because he was worried he really _would_ die…who knew? It didn't matter, one way or the other. He'd still get his job done, and maybe he'd be able to help the kid out, just a bit.

--

Jango made a miserable habit of going to see the boy, over the following days. Sometimes, he'd bring Boba, sometimes he'd go alone. He'd usually try to sneak some extra food in, for the boy, though. The first time they had sex together, the night after Anakin's trial – where he was predictably declared guilty – he'd later swear it was a rather pleasant accident. The second and third times, it was more on purpose. He actually found he rather liked the boy. The last time was the night before the boy's execution. Jango decided to stay later, that night, to try to keep the boy calm. Panicking wouldn't help at all.

Skywalker – Jango wanted to try to keep what little distance he could – clung to him like a lifeline, trembling with something other than cold. "I never thought I'd be so afraid to die," he said in a hushed voice, "and I always just thought Obi-Wan would be here with me, when I did die."

"He might show up." It was hard to keep distance, though, when they were naked and holding each other, sheltered from the wind tunnel of the cellblock only by the blanket Jango had managed to scrounge up. "You Jedi have a habit of showing up, when you're either needed or not wanted."

"I guess," Skywalker said, not sounding at all convinced.

"Besides, you've lived this long, you must be good at protecting yourself." He wasn't sure why he was bothering. "The Geonosians like to make a sport of it. They're not just going to send you to the gallows."

"Oh, good, I get to work up a sweat before I'm slaughtered," the boy scoffed, snuggling a bit closer, wrapping himself a bit tighter in the blanket and Jango's arms.

"Point is, you get to fight back. Gives you a better survival rate."

Skywalker nodded slightly. "Well, here's hoping, I guess."

"Don't worry too much," Jango advised, giving Skywalker's arm – prickly with chill – a rub. "You'll be fine. I'm sure you're making a much bigger fuss over it than it'll actually be."

"I'm sure," Skywalker echoed blandly.

"Dying can't be too bad," Jango murmured. "I bet you'll be much less upset, once it's all said and done, than the Jedi that took you for granted while you're here."

"Well, of course _I'll_ be less upset," Skywalker pointed out sullenly. "_I'll_ be dead."

"Then there's no point in fretting about it, is there?" Jango gave his arm another firm rub. "Panicking won't help you. Calm might."

Skywalker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Calm, right," he said.

"Maybe remembering what you are will lead that Master of yours to you in time to help out a bit," Jango snorted. "I promise not to arrest him."

"Well," Skywalker said with a slight laugh. "As long as you promise."

"I'm not on a commission to arrest him, just you." Jango poked the kid's arm, hoping it came off as teasingly as he'd intended. To his surprise, Skywalker laughed.


End file.
